


Gold [Mavin]

by ind1go_ink



Series: Mavin AUs [3]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Angst, M/M, Male Slash, Masturbation, Mavin, Possibly Unrequited Love, Slashfic, Smut, Solo, Unrequited Crush, Unrequited Lust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-20
Updated: 2015-04-26
Packaged: 2018-03-24 23:40:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3788617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ind1go_ink/pseuds/ind1go_ink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gavin finds himself in a compromising situation. Confusion follows.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> (Potential part 2, maybe.)  
> First ever potential Mavin fic because I'm trash, and also I couldn't find many good Mavin fics (not that I'm saying mine will be any good)
> 
> (DESCRIPTIVE SOLO SMUT AHEAD)

There’s not many times where Gavin will click on the link when someone sends him a video, or a song, not even when Ray sends him a million pics a minute. But somehow he finds the time to watch whatever Michael sends, and more often than not, will download the songs he sends, even though he’s not a huge fan of metal and all it’s sub genres.

But one day, as he’s perusing Twitter, offering half-hearted agreements to Geoff across two steaming cups of home-brewed coffee in the center console on the way to work, his phone vibrates in his hand and his ringtone sounds a moment later. Michael’s name appears on his screen and Gavin automatically smiles, a crooked affair that he struggles to rein in lest Geoff catch his dumb expression.

He realises it’s a video after he clicks the black box and the video app springs into life on his screen.  
“Bugger,” He mutters, pausing the video to scramble for his in-ear headphones in his jeans pocket, stretching out and worming his hand into his pocket, tongue poking between teeth as he wrestles for the cord.

“What the fuck are you doing, Gavin?” Geoff asks, throwing a glance at him behind sunglasses, turning his attention back to the road as they turn into the road housing Rooster Teeth’s studio.

“Just, augh, gettin’ my headphones.” He succeeds in hooking a finger around his headphone cord, pulling the tangled mess from his pocket with a triumphant yelp.

“We’re twenty feet from the studio!” Geoff exclaims, shaking his head, pressing his foot a little harder on the accelerator. Mornings with Gavin were either a peaceful affair, or a trip to irritable city. It appeared to be one of _those_ mornings.

Gavin plugs his headphones in, and begins watching as he gets out of the car, making his way to the studio building, not paying attention to his surroundings.

The video starts off dim, but then neon lights flare, and music starts. It’s hyper, and in the lights Gavin sees Michael’s face, his pupils blown and a goofy grin on his face. He’s drunk for sure. _Must’ve been last night_. Gavin thinks, another half-smile creeping onto his face when Michael starts shouting over the music.

“Wish my boi was here! Gav, you prick, why didn’t you come? We could have got bevved.”

Gavin snorts, pausing the video and looking up momentarily before opening the door to the office, nodding to the receptionist. _I should get her name…_ For three years he’d seen this woman every day, and still didn’t know her name. He shrugs off his jacket once he’s at his desk, laying it over his chair, kicking his feet up on the edge of the desk and playing the video. The neon blue lights are shading Michael’s face now, and it gives him a more solemn look, though he’s jumping to the music.

“Gav, man, I fuckin’ miss you. Why didn’t you come?”

“You must’ve been really drunk,” Gavin whispers to his phone, an amused look in his eyes before his headphones are popped from his ears, cutting off the next sentence, spiking white-hot terror in Gavin’s veins.

“I lo-”

“Whatcha watching, Gavvy boy?” It’s Michael in the flesh, eyebrow raised with a smirk perched on his lips.

“N-Nothing.” He stutters in reply, his panic mounting every second. “Ch- Yeah. You must have been really fucked last night, Micool.” He bluffs, trying to quell the thunder of rushing blood in his ears.

“Yeah, it was funny. You should have come!”

“Yeah,” He mumbles, pushing himself out of his seat, determined to escape as fast as possible, but Gavin finds himself lingering in the doorway, hands resting on the smooth paint of the wall, eyes trailing over Michael’s back as he leans down to pick up his fallen headphones.

“You…”

“Yeah, bud?” Michael looks up, and Gavin loses all courage when those eyes hit him. He ducks out of the room, eyes wide as he makes his way to the bathroom.

“What in bloody fuck is wrong, Gav?” He mutters to himself, leaning on the basin, flipping the tap up and patting his cheeks with water.

“Gavin!” Ray pokes his head through the bathroom door. “Get into the rec room, ya sonuvabitch. We’re all waiting for you.”

Gavin nods in reply, following Ray out of the room.

~

There’s something intrinsically awkward about popping an unexplained half-chub halfway through a playthrough, Gavin decides. Even if it _is_ Minecraft. His erratic shifting to ease the pressure from his crotch isn’t going unnoticed now, and out the corner of his eye he sees Michael giving him a Look. He’s not sure if it’s a Look of certainty or a Look of “What the fuck are you doing, you weirdo?” - but he prays it’s the second option.

They’re in the middle of a duel, and Gavin is screaming into the mic as Michael rains blows with his iron sword, fingers popping the buttons and flicking the trigger as fast as possible while Gavin tries - and fails - to run away. There’s something a little more urgent to his scream though, and he trails off into whimpers before falling silent, completely still even as his character respawns - eyes wide and unseeing, body slumped against the back of his chair, back arched. Michael notices and leans over, careful to keep away from mic.

“What the fuck are you doing, Gavin? We gotta play, man.” He whispers, but Gavin doesn’t appear to hear him.

There’s a groove on the underside of Gavin’s desk, and he’s slumped perfectly into the gap, just the right amount of friction pressing against his growing boner so that he can’t move without revealing himself. It’s taking all of his concentration not to moan like a wanton whore. It’d been so long since he’d even jacked off, and all of the built up pressure was struggling to slip past his tightly clamped lips.

“Gavin, what the fuck?” Michael hisses, wheeling himself closer.

He shakes his head, eyes clenching shut as Michael’s cologne washes over him. _Don’t come closer you glorious bastard!_ He’s howling in his head. A silent, unheard plea.

“Dude, what’s wrong?” Michael’s reaching out to place a finger over the pulse point in his neck, and Gavin’s willpower slips for a moment, a tiny whimper, desperate as his back arches a little more, his eyes flying open as he stares at Michael, chest heaving. _Don’t…. Please don’t touch me!_

He’s silently willing his erection away, but it’s persistent and so is Michael, so he breaks his silence. “Gottagotothebathroomrealquickpleaseexcuseme.”

And he’s out of the door before anyone can even reply, diving into the security of the bathroom, locking himself in a cubicle, half-heartedly punching the wall with a whimper. He clenches his jaw, leaning his forehead against the cool boards, his breathing harsh in his ears.

The temptation is overwhelming, and despite the warning signals flashing in his brain, the hormones drive his body, his hand creeping to his thigh, brushing his palm against the taut fabric of his jeans. A hiss escapes him, and he pops the button, wrenching down the zip with hurried movements. A second later his jeans are around his knees, one hand propping him up against the tank of the toilet, knees pressed to the rim of the bowl, seat up. He starts gentle, light teasing brushes of his fingertips that make him whine high, teasing him up to completion, so that his briefs join his jeans, palming at himself. The skin on skin friction make him shudder out a gasp, hand unconsciously forming a loose circle as he begins to fuck his hand, slow at first, careful, but picking up with force and speed so that his breath is audible throughout the stalls, rough and harsh, mingling with cut off moans and unrestrained gasps.

He doesn’t notice when the door opens quietly, and light footsteps step into the bathroom. Sweat drips down his hairline, his eyes clench shut as he slips down slightly, hand now blindly pawing at his aching cock, images flitting through his brain with no control. Arms fill his vision, wrapped around him, the edge of a tattoo appearing and disappearing from view as he imagines getting fucked from behind, raspy whispered sweet nothings fill his ears, warm chestnut coloured eyes gazing into his, with a breathless, uncontrolled “Michael…” he comes, most of his spunk spilling into the toilet bowl, a few strands of heat filling his palm.

He slumps against the stall, logic streaming into him in a sharp jarring way that knocks the breath from his lungs. _Did… Did I just say Michael?... No, no way! No Of course not…_  He slips down so that he’s sitting spread-eagled hand ripping toilet paper from it’s box, wiping off all the cum on his hand. He only just notices when a movement appears out of the corner of his eye. He focuses his gaze on it, and feels his blood freeze in his veins.

A pair of ratty sneakers are stood outside his stall, pointed at him, unmoving.

 _ **Please** let them not have heard me_! He swallows thickly, flushing the soiled toilet paper away with the rest of the evidence of his indiscretion. He stands, knees weak, and does himself up as best as he can.

“Just about out, pal.” Gavin winces at the heaviness of his voice, the slight waver giving him away more than he’d like. He opens the cubicle, only to freeze yet again, mouth falling open.

Michael stares at him like he’s never seen him before, head cocked to the side, eyebrows furrowed. Silence reigns in the bathroom.

“I-ah, oh shit, I am _so sorry_!” Gavin sputters, reaching up to grip a handful of hair and pulling at it as he stares wildly between the toilet and Michael’s face.

Michael just shakes his head. “What the fuck was that, Gavin?” His voice is quiet, controlled. Gavin feels the tears spike in his eyes.

  
“I- I don’t know! I just- I needed a wank, you know?! And - And I don’t fucking know, Michael! You were - just… There… In my head.” He curls his arms around himself, teeth worrying at his lip. “I didn’t mean it I swear! I just. I don’t know!”

“Do you have a thing for me?” All the teasing that should have been in that sentence, wasn’t there. It makes Gavin fidget, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“I don’t know!”

“Yeah, you do, Gavin. Tell me right now.”

“I-I really don’t!”

Michael’s composure cracks, and he swings around, throwing a fist as he yells. “YES YOU _DO_.” The mirror cracks under his knuckles, his skinned joints leaving bloody smudges down the surface of the glass. Michael lets out a hiss, shoulders slumping.

“I-I’m sorry! I-I don’t know what I was thinking! I just- I don’t know! You’re you, and we’re so close! It was a mistake!” Gavin wails, tears dripping down his face now, his lip bleeding from the pressure of his teeth.

Michael turns back to him, eyes still dark under furrowed eyebrows. “Am I a mistake?”

“No!” Gavin’s retort is instant, and he steps back, shrinking away from the auburn-haired man.

“So what am I to you?” For the first time in his life, Michael sounds lost, genuinely confused, and it breaks something inside Gavin.

“You’re… You’re bloody well everythin’, Michael.” He mumbles, sniffing to clear his nose.

Michael just shakes his head slowly. “I’ll tell Geoff about the broken mirror, and _we_ are going to the hospital to get my hand fixed, yeah? Then we’re going back to my apartment and having a _talk_ about this.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gavin is finally confronted with the issue head on, and he's never been very good at following hints.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Added on a part 2 for all those there were lovely people and asked for it!  
> This is much shorter, and there's no smut buuuuut maybe there'll be a part 3, who knows... (Psst, I do.)  
> Basically; THIS IS A FILLER!

It’s only when Gavin is seated, much to his discomfort, on Michael’s couch, and Michael is standing over him that he finally gains the courage to look him in the eyes.

“I’m sorry,” He whispers, but Michael’s having none of it, just stares at him with narrowed eyes, arms folded across his chest. His bandaged hand flexes against the stiff cotton, drawing a slight hiss from Michael as the fabric rubs against his still smarting knuckles, but he doesn’t speak.

He lets the silence drag on so long that Gavin considers running out, never coming back, but just as he starts to will himself to move, Michael’s in his face, crouched in front of him, palms planted either side of his legs.

“When did it start?”

Gavin feels his cheeks flush at the proximity. “When did what start?”

“The jacking it to me.” Michael pushes his glasses further up his nose, glaring at nothing in particular, but Gavin gets the feeling he’s trying not to smile, with the way his lips twitch, even with the frown pulling creases around his eyes.

“Uh…Once.” He mutters, leaning back into the couch cushions.

“I don’t believe that for a single fucking second, Gavin Free.” Michael smiles tightly, rising and flopping next to him. “We’ve known each other for, what, four years now? I know you, and I know when you’re lying through your teeth. You get this look, like; ‘ _Yes, I am lying, I am guilty._ ’ So, how many times?”

His tone was relaxed, like they were talking about the latest bar hopping spree or joking about their co-workers, Gavin supposed it was to lull him into a false sense of security. His nerves told him otherwise, and he was acutely aware of how close they were - how he could reach over and just… No. He decides to change tact, take the offense.

“I’ll tell you if you answer my question.”

“Jesus… It’s like pulling teeth, you piece of shit. Fine.”

“Why do you send me all those videos of you - drunk, and say shit like ‘I love you’. And not the friendship kind either, you look too sad for it to just be friendship. Why do you do it?” He’s clenching his hands into fists to stop the waver in his voice, but notices when Michael slings his arm over the back of the couch, gaze flickering over his face to the coffee table to the silent tv.

Gotcha. Gavin thinks bitterly.

“I always say stupid shit when I’m drunk, you know that.”

“Yeah, okay, but why ‘I love you’?!”

He pretends not to notice when Michael’s body visibly stiffens, pretends that it doesn’t hurt him just a little when Michael speaks, and his tone is harsh, unrelenting.

“I answered your question, now you answer mine.”

Gavin gives up, running a hand through his hand with a shameful sigh. “Too many times to count,” He mumbles.

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Gavin glares at him, mouth twisted into a sour line. “Happy now?”

“Actually, yeah.” Michael smiles then, and Gavin feels like the ground has dropped out from under him.

“W-What?”

“Dude, I knew you liked me. Didn’t know how much, but I knew that there was something there.”

Gavin lets his eyes close, burying his head in his hands. “You don’t like-”

“Woah, stop right the fuck there. You don’t get to tell me what I do and don’t like. _Who_ I do or don’t like. I decide that. And... I decided on you.”

By the time Michael’s finished speaking, his voice is barely a whisper, all pretense gone as he reaches over to pat Gavin’s back.

Honestly, Gavin’s not all too sure what that means, aside from Michael was saying that he chose him. But he didn’t understand how he could just decide to like him.

“What does that mean?”

“You’re dumb.” Michael’s hand grips his chin, makes Gavin look at him, and he sees a watery glazed look in the redhead's eyes, a faint smile tugging at his lips in such a way that Gavin wants to choke, wants to fall into his arms and never let go.

“Me?” His brows furrow as he forces himself to look away, hands wringing in his lap.

“Yeah,” Michael’s voice is almost in his ear now, and Gavin can barely catch a breath past the lump in his throat, noticing when the crush of clothing and rustle of a moving body sounds painfully loud in his ears, and he’s startled when Michael gives him a peck on the cheek. Gavin feels the gauze brush his skin when hands cup his cheeks, leaving a chaste kiss on his lips before Michael pulls away decisively, standing with a lopsided grin that sends jolts of heat rushing to Gavin’s cheeks.

“So I’ll see you tomorrow, Gav?”


End file.
